The Wait Behind the Fight
by Chyme for the Rhyme
Summary: When you're a survivor and not a fighter, all you can do is obey. For at the onset of Ai's rebellion, there are some voices that won't be heard. No matter how loud you call.


For the longest time there was fear. Vast, biting chunks of it. Not all the time, of course. It was hard to chew food, when terrified, and eventually, even adrenalin, that magic spell that worked on the muscles, well, that ran dry too.

But Jin could still remember white walls and white clothes, the first boxing him in a room that was designed not to hurt, but did. And the second only serving to enlarge his shape and hang off him like pyjamas, to make him seem bigger than he is. Like a pufferfish inflating, or a hedgehog shaking out its spikes, saying look at me, and now_ leave me alone._

The trouble was, Jin had no clear idea anymore what it was he was trying to scare off.

'Do I seem happy to you now?' he asked his brother, one visiting hour. And if his brother had startled, had hastened to answer the question with a smile and assurance, well…it didn't ring quite hollow. But the look in his eyes still seemed a little too relived, glistening in all the wrong ways, and something about it curdled Jin's stomach, made a flash of anger strike like lightning in his gut.

Still. Perhaps even that was better than the onslaught of terror he could remember haunting him, even if the source of it all, still escaped his memory.

'It's fine, Jin,' his brother told him, reading the frustration in his gaze. 'Just take it slowly, okay? You just need to concentrate on getting better.'

Jin grit his teeth. And struggled to do as he was told.

* * *

For the shortest time there was darkness. A buzz of electricity under the scalp, a cold dream that clutched at her brain, made her imagine voices where there were none. She saw in shades of black and blue, a world underwater, much like the background of the card art she had peered into when she was younger when designing a deck of her own.

But now she could remember hardly any of it, and instead she drunk in the colours around her greedily, the rainbow of pink and green that exploded from Aoi's clothes and the flowers she held, and _oh_, Miyu couldn't _wait_ to join her, to tear off the dull hospital ones that trapped her body, that made her feel smaller than she was.

And if Aoi seemed tense the last time she saw her, worry tucked firmly into the brow at her forehead? Well. Miyu would work harder than ever to get stronger, to help chase it off for her!

'You don't seem very happy,' she said, covering Aoi's strong hand, a hand that still dared to draw Duel Monster cards, with her own. 'Won't you tell me what's bothering you?'

But then Aoi looked at her, her smile weak, but still there, even when it clearly didn't want to be, and said. 'No; it's nothing. You just need to concentrate on getting better.'

Miyu smiled. And struggled to do as she was told.

* * *

In no time at all there was nothing. Long gone are the beeps of the heart monitor, and gone were the wails and sobs. Gone too, was the fire that snarled and bit at flesh, that left behind only dust and bone.

The urn was silent. No thought behind it, no consciousness trapped.

Ai observed it and saw the coating of dust on the dark surface, as though no one in the house had had the courage to sweep the grey coating aside it. His fingers hovered briefly over the surface, daring, not quite to touch. Then quickly, he drew them away.

After all, this wasn't his partner.

'Sorry,' he said. 'But I think I needed to see you properly. To see what becomes of humans when they're no longer here in this world. After all, if what I'm planning falls through, a lot more might end up like you.' He hesitated. 'And you're the only dead one I know. Well. There's Dr Kougami. But I don't think Revolver–Sensei will appreciate me visiting his grave.'

He stared at the urn some more. It's so small, he thought. So small and black – larger than an Ignis, but still, without voice, without life, it's so much smaller than them all. The result of Windy's crude handiwork, true, the work of an _Ignis_, and still,_ still,_ I never want to see Yusaku come to this.

And then another thought, bolder than the ones before crept in; _my kind deserve better than a dismal sight like that._

He was gone by the time the woman who lived there came back, not a trace of him left behind, not even on the security camera. Not that it would have mattered, even if she had caught sight of him.

For there was no human left alive, who could tell Ai what to do anymore.

* * *

**Notes: **Is Windy's origin dead for sure? The world may never know. For the purpose of this drabble, he is though.


End file.
